


Insanity (Clarity)

by neverthelessthesun



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Wrote This While Hungry, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton-centric, Everybody Lives, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Food, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Murder Thoughts, Mutual Pining, People Assume The Worst Of Tony, Sappy, Schmoop, Swearing, but not in like a sad whumpy way, but the point of this is still stony, can be read platonically between them or romantic, everything is not what it seems, its a clintasha choose your own adventure, mentioned: sex, reading minds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverthelessthesun/pseuds/neverthelessthesun
Summary: Clint is having a bad weekend. He's stuck reading the minds of everyone near him until Thor gets back from Asgard with the cure. He really, really hates magic.Prompt fill for the prompt:Either Steve or a third party gains mind reading powers, is shocked when Tony's thoughts about Steve are the most schmoopy romantic PG things, even when what comes out of his mouth is super suggestive.





	Insanity (Clarity)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fluffypanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/gifts).



> Hello, and thanks for clicking! 
> 
> This work does include formatting that denotes internal thoughts, [and it looks like this.]
> 
> Title is pulled from Clarity by Zedd. Shut up, I am daydreaming that it is still 2012, let me live.

Clint Barton was not having a good weekend. 

First, he lost his third-favorite bow. It was a shame, too, because now he only had four purple ones, and he didn’t want to put his random orange one on his purple-bow storage rack. (He might have been raised in a circus, but he wasn’t a _heathen_. He knew how to organize.)

Secondly, he fell off a building. Again. Stark caught him (—-and he wasn’t quite used to that yet, even after a decade with SHIELD and three years with the Avengers, Having someone he could count on to catch him—-) but he still badly bruised his ribs. It wasn’t Stark’s fault that the only arms he had that could catch Clint while he was approaching terminal velocity were metal, so Clint would just have to deal.

“Or, you could stop jumping off buildings,” Natasha reminded him.

Clint could deal. 

The worst thing that happened that weekend, though, was magic. Of fucking course it was. Wasn’t it always? And it had to be _mind_ magic, too, as if Clint hadn’t had his skull fucked around with enough. He should sue. 

[I hope Clint’s not listening,] Bruce thought from the other side of the kitchen. [Shit. Now he definitely is. I need to stop thinking his name.]

Clint sighed into his glass of chocolate milk. Reading minds was the worst. People always got self-conscious, then tried not to think about him, then ended up caught in a vicious cycle of chanting [Don’t think about Clint!] until he sulkily left the room. Clint wondered if this was how Professor X felt all the time. 

Chugging his chocolate milk, he stood and set the glass in the sink before tossing a lazy salute at the chagrined doctor Banner and turning tail. He’d stopped kidding himself that he wasn’t running about twelve hours in. 

It was day two of locking himself in the range and killing all of Stark’s best holographic bunnies. His curse thankfully only spread to about a ten foot radius, so unless someone was spying on him, there was a pretty good chance he would be alone in his thoughts until his arm got tired. 

“Hey, there, Legolas,” Stark announced from the door. Great.

“Stark,” Clint greeted curtly. 

“Listen, I noticed you’re going through my range programs a little bit faster than normal, and like, I know it’s a coping mechanism to shoot things, so. If you want I could update the system? Give you a little more to play with while you’re waiting for Thor to get back with his mom’s magic tea.”

[Please say yes, I have nothing else to do that will keep me away from Steve. Or from thinking about Steve.]

Damn, were Iron Man and Captain America fighting again?

“Sure,” Clint said before he could stop himself, because no one wanted to see that fight happen before both of them could cool down. “Do you, ah. Need some space?”

“God, no!” Stark insisted a little too forcefully. [You’re my shield now, you better not go anywhere,] he added in his brain.

“I guess I’m glad you find my shitty brain convenient,” Clint deadpanned.

Stark, though, who had practically invented sarcasm, only grinned back unashamedly. “You know me. I always manage to find a bright side and twist it to benefit myself.”

Clint shook his head, because he’d been on this team for close to three years now, and while he knew Stark was an asshole, he also gave a shit. People who gave a shit were a rarity. 

They settled in to a pretty nice rhythm through the afternoon, with Stark jabbering to his personal skynet for five minutes or so, thunking around in the range computer’s hardware, then asking Clint to give it a whirl. Clint would graciously shoot the hell out of some fake rabbits, throw out some feedback, then sit back and watch as Stark repeated the process. It was entertaining to say the least—-JARVIS might have been creepy as fuck, but he also shared Stark’s dry humor and wit, so the banter was superb. 

Around four o’clock, the system was optimized, and Stark yawned and scratched his belly. “Alright, team. Good work. I’m gonna go crash for five hours, I have to catch a flight to Sydney at ten.”

[Hopefully I won’t dream of Steve’s pancakes again.] Clint caught the stray thought as Stark passed him to leave. [I love his breakfast food. I’d love to wake up to that smell every day.]

“Have a good night,” Clint called after him, because even though he wasn’t a spy and sucked at lying, he knew when to pretend something that happened didn’t happen.

.o0o.

Thor sent word from Asgard that Freya happened to be out of the mind-tea that would cure Clint’s mind reading curse, and that he had to go to another realm and fight a demon to pick more, or some shit. Clint wasn’t really paying attention. He was too busy trying (and failing) to block out the thoughts of his team.

[I wonder if I have everything for dahi toast,] Bruce was musing. 

[Slice the jugular. Knife in left boot. Strangle. Garrotte hidden in bra. Bludgeon with chair leg.] Natasha, of course. She said thinking of ways to kill whoever was speaking helped her get through team meetings without going crazy. 

[We should set up a safe room for Clint, so he can have some relief for the coming week.] Cap was planning which rooms in the tower would be far enough away from people to make such a plan feasible, rifling through the blueprints he kept in his head.

[No one is listening but the Captain,] Coulson asserted from the front. [I suppose it’s too much to ask for on a Monday afternoon.]

[I wish Steve would look at me and smile. I love it when he’s so genuinely happy.]

“What the fuck, Stark?” The words poured out of his mouth before he could get a handle on his impulse control, interrupting Coulson’s briefing. 

Stark scooted back from the table so he was just out of Clint’s radius. “What, Barton,” he half-sneered, half-cajoled. “Can’t handle a little sensual daydream every once in a while?”

More than one person in the room let out a murmured “Gross.” Cap, predictably, flushed red.

Clint opened his mouth to correct the assumption that Stark had been having a sexual fantasy, but then he closed it again. What was he gonna do, tell everyone here that Stark had a giant man-crush on Captain America? He saw Stark’s eyes go solemn with gratitude. 

“Let’s refocus,” Coulson all but begged from the front of the conference room. 

[Thank you, Barton.] Clint didn’t turn to look at Stark again, but he gave a single sharp nod.

.o0o.

“What I wouldn’t give to tap that,” Stark said as he walked into the common room with Bruce. “Half my company, at least. Not a controlling share, you understand, just forty-nine percent.”

Bruce nodded sagely. “I am not invested in this conversation at all. I’m not attracted to faceless people in costumes.”

“I mean, let’s be honest. Anyone who is attracted to guys on any level has thought about the real thing. There’s no way this would hold a candle to that, I mean, have you seen Steve’s abs? But it has got to be a close second.”  
“I have not thought about it,” Bruce insisted.

“You’re a liar. Not even as a teenager?”

Bruce, tellingly, did not respond. 

Just as they rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, Stark strayed close enough to Clint that the archer got a little more context than he really wanted. They were discussing some Captain-America-lookalike camboy that had gone somewhat viral recently, and how Bruce got roped into listening to Stark talk about sexytimes was beyond Clint, but here they were.

[I would like to end this topic of conversation.] Bruce was broadcasting, and Clint didn’t need to look at him to know he was giving off his standard “leave me alone” vibes. Stark, for his sins, was one of the only people in the world who could get away with ignoring those vibes. 

[But really,] Bruce continued. [What a therapist wouldn’t give to get their hands on Tony’s neuroses.] Clint secretly agreed. 

[Steve would look so lovely in my bed,] Stark was daydreaming. Clint prepared to leave the room, because no way in hell did he want to be party to a sexual fantasy about his pseudo-boss. But Stark simply thought, [he reads books before bed. It would be so nice to come into my room and see him propped up, reading a paperback, and dressed in soft clothes.] 

Clint stood still in pure shock for about ten seconds before continuing on his way. But he didn’t leave before Stark’s mind flitted to imagery of Steve in soft, cuddly pajamas, not at all sexy, just warm and comfy. He sighed into his cup of coffee as Bruce pointedly changed the subject and Clint ran for his safe room.

.o0o.

[I hope he likes ice cream,] Stark was pondering, while ordering takeout for the team. It was the night that Thor was due home, and they were all gathered in the common area to welcome him back from his noble crusade or whatever. Clint couldn’t get out of it, so he was grudgingly sitting in a corner, watching Stark make heart eyes at Steve and wondering how he didn’t see it before.

[He doesn’t like to be cold,] Stark reminded himself, [but maybe he’d make an exception for sugar.] 

Clint wanted to call out and tell Stark to just ask him, but he had resolved that his best recourse was to ignore anything he heard while under the effects of the magic, and then pretend it never happened afterwards. 

[I’d love to know his favorite foods. Christ knows I couldn’t make them for him, I’d burn the tower down and Pepper would look disappointed. But. I could order them for him.]

This style of thinking had been going on for about fifteen minutes by now. Clint wondered if Stark ever took a break from thinking sappy, romantic things about Steve Rogers. 

“How you holding up?” Natasha asked, still managing to startle him as she leaned against his armrest.

“Fine,” Clint said shortly, but he didn’t take his eyes off Stark. 

Tash followed his line of sight. “Is he still being super gross?” 

“Yeah, it’s starting to get really annoying,” Clint grumbled.

“You can tell him to stop and he will probably do his best.”

“He just needs to say something to Steve instead of pining all damn day, and the problem would solve itself.”

“I don’t think Steve would be interested in a quick fuck,” Natasha dismissed, “Otherwise I’d have told him to say something years ago.”

Clint looked at her askance. [He looks like a muppet when he does that,] she thought.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“Beside the point. Stark isn’t after a quick fuck.”

[That’s literally all he’s _ever_ been after.] But her raised eyebrow communicated the same. That was the amazing thing about Natasha. They were already so much on the same wavelength, that it didn’t feel quite as intrusive to be forced to listen to her thoughts. They already basically read each other’s minds. 

“I’m serious,” Clint told her. “All he thinks about all day is how cute Cap is, how he wants to wrap him in blankets and give him hot cocoa, how he wishes they would hold hands in Central Park or whatever. It’s sickeningly sweet.”

This time both eyebrows went up. 

“Yeah, I was surprised, too. But he’s head over heels.”

“And Steve?”

Clint frowned, his eyes automatically scanning the room for Cap’s bulk. “I haven’t been around him much all week. Since the fight on Saturday.”

“Hmm.” [He’s afraid of you finding out how unspeakably in love he is with Stark,] she filled in for him.

“Seriously!? Tasha, we have got to knock their heads together.”

“Leave it to me,” she said, standing gracefully and swaying her hips as she walked away. 

“You two are even creepier now that one of you can actually read minds,” Bruce commented from the other side of the sectional.

Just then, Thor slammed into the living room, and nothing much else was heard, because Clint grabbed the tea straight out of Thor’s hands and chugged the whole thing.

.o0o.

“Oh come on,” Stark insisted from his perch on Steve’s lap. “We weren’t that bad.”

“It was sickeningly disgusting,” Clint pronounced, grinning. “I almost died from sap overdose.”

“You almost died from jumping off a building,” Steve reminded. 

“Shut up,” Clint shot back, but he was still grinning. “Happy anniversary.”

Stark brightened, as if he’d just remembered it was his anniversary. “Thanks,” he said, but his eyes were on Steve’s. “Five years, and it’s still so amazing.”

Clint rolled his eyes and gave them some space. Even though he thankfully couldn’t read minds anymore, it still felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t when he was around the Avengers’ resident power couple. They were both so...intense. All the time.

“Having a good time?” Natasha asked. 

“Reminiscing on the good old days when, for one shining moment, I knew something you didn’t know about Tony Stark.”

Tasha punched him in the shoulder, but not hard enough that his beer spilled. “You ass.”

Clint only smiled wide, because even though he claimed to hate sappy shit, he never begrudged Natasha her PDA.

“Let’s go booby trap the bathrooms,” She suggested, and suddenly the anniversary party got a lot more entertaining.

.o0o.

_Fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos give me so much joy!
> 
> I got back on [Tumblr](https://nvrthlessthsun.tumblr.com/) because I have no impulse control so follow me or w/e.


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